


In Her Way

by hikorichan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, Protective Parents, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikorichan/pseuds/hikorichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus is determined to get Hermione's father's permission to marry his daughter. The only problem is, he won't give it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Her Way

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a piece I wrote for remarkable1 for 2015 SSHG Giftfest over on Livejournal. A big thank you, as always, goes to my betas AdelaideArcher and MelodyLePetit.

**In Her Way**

Hermione always got her way.

After Severus miraculously survived the war, Hermione demanded to be his nurse. He refused—he didn’t need anyone, let alone an annoying teenaged swot like her. She convinced Poppy and Minerva. In the end he was too tired to fight any longer, and he was stuck with her.

After he left the hospital wing, she forced her friendship on him. He didn’t want to accept her food, or her kindness, or her conversation, and yet she showed up twice a week on his doorstep, dragging him from his house, or stomping determinedly into his kitchen. He didn’t try quite so hard to stop her that time.

He fought madly, however, when she told him she loved him. Yet, even when he made her cry, she persisted. In the way only Hermione Granger could, she stubbornly wore away at his resolve, sure she was right, until he could no longer deny he cared. 

When Severus suggested their first date be at the Leaky, Hermione smiled and took him to a posh French bistro instead. He asked for them to go slow, and then three days later Hermione was riding his prick, his pants around his ankles on the couch in his dilapidated sitting room.

He managed only a sigh when she showed up at his door with her belongings, announcing she was moving in—because “it only made sense”—and opened the door wide for her. He let her redecorate without so much as a huff; actually cooed alongside her when she decided they needed a pet and brought home a tiny black and white kitten. 

Yes, when it came to their relationship, Hermione always got her way. Severus had long since stopped pretending that he minded. 

But this time, he refused to give in. If he was going to marry Hermione Granger—and Merlin, did he ever desire it—he was going to do it properly. There would be a real proposal. Something romantic. A sunset and a choir. A ring—his grandmother’s gold band set with an emerald. Down on one knee. His bride in happy tears. 

But first, he needed her father’s permission. 

It didn’t matter how many times she explained why it was unnecessary. Nor how many times she yelled at him and called him “silly and old fashioned.” He refused to give in to her begging. Even when she cried, he only placed a hand on her shoulder, drew her into his chest, and said softly, “this is important to me, Hermione. I know you don’t understand, but I need to do this my way. Please.”

For most of his life, he had never dared believe that he would be in position to marry a witch, let alone one as intelligent and lovely as Hermione Granger. His parents had not taught him much about love except what not to do, but his grandmother had been different. 

He didn’t see her often before she died when he was fourteen, but in the summer of his ninth year, he stayed with her for three weeks. The Prince matriarch was a stern looking woman typical of the line, but with sparkling blue eyes that told him she lived a life of happiness that he could only dream of. Her house was small and filled with things Severus found fascinating: shelves of books, crystal bowls filled with sweets, a cuckoo clock that looked like a log house with tiny elves that circled through its doors, doilies and woollen blankets strewn over comfortable and practical furniture, and hundreds of frames filled with pictures of family and friends. It was the photographs that really caught his attention; his own house had none, and seeing them here, looking so right scattered over all the shelving and walls, he realised for the first time that was strange. 

One evening, his grandmother caught him with a photo in his hands. It was of a young witch, beautifully dressed in frilly white robes, standing next to a man dressed all in black, buttoned from neck to crotch, looking completely confident in his place by the witch’s side. 

“That’s me with your grandfather,” said his grandmother, coming up behind him. Severus startled, attempting to hide the picture in the crease between the sofa cushion and the armrest. He looked up at her with wide, fearful eyes, sure he would be punished for touching what wasn’t his. 

“It’s all right, Severus,” she soothed him with a soft smile, plucking the frame from its hiding place and sitting down next to him. She put an arm around him, and set the photo between them on her knee. 

“This was taken on our wedding day,” she spoke, a hint of emotion in her voice. “Your grandfather always looked serious, but he had a soft heart underneath.” Severus watched the wizard’s arm curl around his new wife, a smile in his dark eyes. 

“How did you meet him?” asked Severus curiously.

“At Hogwarts, of course. He was three years above me, and began courting me in third year,” recalled his grandmother, looking wistful. “He proposed a few months after I graduated.”

“What’s a proposed?”

“A proposal, Severus. A proposal is when a wizard asks a witch to marry him.”

“I know a witch I want to marry,” said Severus boldly, thinking of Lily. Would she stand in a beautiful white robe with him next to her, just like his grandparents in their wedding photo?

His grandmother chuckled softly. “I think you are a bit too young to be proposing, dear. Once you are an adult and have a witch you love who loves you back, then you can think about proposing. I’ll never forget when William—that’s your grandfather—asked my father if he could have my hand.”

Severus screwed up his face, trying to figure out why his grandfather would want his grandmother’s hand. He glanced at the ends of her arms, ensuring that she did, indeed, have all her fingers and thumbs. 

“Why did grandfather ask your father for your hand?” he finally asked, unable to figure it out for himself. He wondered if it was some magic he didn’t know about that he would learn at Hogwarts like his grandfather. 

“That is the proper way, you see,” said his grandmother. “First you ask her father for permission to marry, and, when he gives it, then you ask the witch.”

“I don’t know Lily’s father,” said Severus sadly, fingering the image of his relatives. His grandmother’s image giggled and smiled up at her husband.

“Well, like I said, give it another few years. You’ll find the right witch eventually.”

* * *

 Now in his late forties, Severus finally had the witch he loved who loved him back (as surprising as that still was). All he needed was her father’s permission. 

The problem was, he didn’t seem to want to give it. 

Finally surrendering to Severus’s insistence to do things “the proper way,” Hermione arranged for her father and Severus to meet for drinks in her parents’ home in Surrey, while she took her mother shopping. 

Sitting in her father’s study, a gin and tonic in his hand, Severus asked the question he had desired to ask ever since Hermione had suggested they might get married. 

“I would like your permission to marry Hermione,” he said plainly, his voice free from emotion despite how his hands had been shaking just before they’d arrived. 

The sandy-haired dentist narrowed his eyes, as if sizing up the man who wanted to be his future son-in-law. With a sigh, he put down his tumbler, the crystal making a clinking sound against the glass coffee table.

“Look, Severus,” he said, straightening up in his chair, “it’s not that I don’t like you, but Hermione’s a strong woman—an individual.”

Severus’s eyes widened momentarily, his heart thudding in his chest. Was he being refused? No, perhaps this was just the way fathers did things—they had to make sure their daughter’s suitor was serious, honest, faithful.

“I am fully aware of Hermione’s personality,” he said tactfully, forcing himself to breathe and not Occlude to the point he seemed emotionless—Hermione was always nagging him about that. “Her strength, intelligence, and… persistence… are traits I greatly admire about Hermione—I would never wish to stifle her in any way.”

“So you ask me for her hand?”

“Yes,” said Severus, taking a breath. “I—I love her very much, and believe she loves me too.”

“I am happy to hear that Severus. But I cannot give you permission. It would not be right. I won’t do that to Hermione.”

Severus felt like he’d been punched in the chest. Had he truly failed? Was this to be the end of his dream to marry Hermione Granger?

The two men sat in silence, avoiding each other’s eyes until a bustle came from the entrance as the Granger women came home. 

“Hermione,” Severus whispered, piercing eyes turning towards the door. How was he to tell her? How could he face her, knowing her father disapproved of their relationship?

Giggles and chatter got louder as the women approached the study. Their smiles faltered as they met the uncomfortable and somber expressions of their mates. 

“Severus?” asked Hermione softly, her eyes flicking between him and her father. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh dear,” breathed her mother, her small hand coming up to cover her mouth. She looked worriedly at Severus, and then turned to her husband. “Well, come on, David. Let’s leave these two alone, shall we?”

The man nodded and rose from his chair, giving Severus a weak smile and a nod before leaving the room. His wife closed the door behind them with a click.

“What happened?” asked Hermione, coming to stand in front of him. Severus hated seeing the worried frown that marred her normally happy expression. He closed his eyes, clenching his hands in his lap, a roil of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. 

Still, he could think of nothing to say to her. 

“Come on, Severus, you know we can’t fix this if you don’t talk to me,” spoke Hermione calmly, pushing herself into his lap. Severus tensed for a moment, thinking he should stop her—what was the point, after all, if they could not be married?—but soon gave in as her head touched his shoulder and her hand touched his cheek. He curled his arms around her, no longer feeling like his world would implode. 

“Your father, he—he refused,” he said, his deep voice unusually shaky. 

“What did he say, exactly?” asked Hermione, continuing to stroke his cheek. 

“He said he ‘would not do that to you’,” replied Severus, lifting his eyes to look at his love directly. “Am I really so bad for you?”

“Oh, Severus,” hushed Hermione, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.”

“What else could he mean?” asked Severus, fighting to squelch down the anger that threatened to ignite in his gut.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure that’s not it.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and Severus sighed. “I know you believe that this is the right way to do things, but do you really need his permission? Can’t we just get married?”

Severus scowled. “You know how I feel about this.”

“I know, Severus,” sighed Hermione. “I just wish I could change your mind. I love you. The entire world could tell me not to marry you and I still would.”

“Hrm… I appreciate the vote of confidence,” scoffed Severus, making Hermione chuckle softly. 

“Don’t be daft,” she admonished. “Come on, let’s go home. You can try again another day.”

* * *

Two weeks later found Severus and David Granger mysteriously left at the table for twenty minutes during a supposed ‘family lunch.’ 

Severus gathered himself up, patting his lips with his napkin before making another attempt.

“Have you had a chance to think over my request from the other week? I was hoping you may have had a change of heart.”

“I have thought it over, Severus, and I’m sorry, but my answer is still the same,” answered David. He gathered his plate and went to the sink, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

Shortly after the failed lunch meeting, Severus redoubled his efforts to win the acceptance of his (hopefully) future father-in-law. He thought perhaps he needed to show the man that Hermione would be well looked after, and that she would not be cut off from the Muggle world despite marrying into the wizarding one. 

He invited the Grangers over for Sunday dinner and spent the entire week planning and purchasing ingredients. On Saturday he rearranged the bookshelves in the sitting room so that the Muggle volumes were more prominent—he could always put them back later if it proved too inefficient. Sunday morning found him in the kitchen, prepping the most elaborate dinner of his life: roast beef, yorkshire puddings, gravy, mashed turnips and sweet potatoes, roast potatoes, and veg. For pudding he planned to create an elaborate tiramisu laced with a few drops of freshly brewed Calming Draught in hopes it might tilt things ever so slightly in his favour—he assured himself this was not cheating, as it was only the tiniest amount, just enough to make David Granger feel content with the world; it wasn’t like he was using a Confundus Charm, or, worse, a vial of poison. 

He made Hermione swear not to disturb him until dinnertime, and to keep the cat out of the kitchen, and she acquiesced with a giggle, calling him “cute,” which only made him scowl. 

Despite the various smells, crashing pans, and a series of curses when he burned his hand on the stove, Hermione stayed away, only entering the kitchen to refill her pot of tea, grab a snack, and give him a series of amused smiles before returning to the sitting room to read. 

Everything was perfect when the Grangers finally arrived. The kitchen table was set with his grandmother’s china (only kept rather than sold by his parents because it was useful), two red candles were lit and dancing happily in their candlesticks (he considered green candles for a moment, only to decide it showed more solidarity with Hermione’s wishes to use the colours of her own house), and the meal was finished, carved, plated, and awaiting Hermione’s parents arrival under a Warming Charm that kept them at just the right temperature, which Severus had tested on Friday night’s dinner with Hermione (she, for her part, had giggled and called him “cute” again). 

Dinner conversation was polite and congenial. The Grangers appeared to like the food. The Calming Draught—pudding, rather—went down without a fuss, David even commending Severus on a fine meal when he was finished. Severus offered the man a digestif of fine whiskey (the best in his collection), and David accepted with good grace, his hand folded happily over his slightly swollen belly. 

Hermione knew this was the signal. “Mum,” she said brightly, “I have got to show you the new sheets I just bought for our bedroom!”

“Oh yes, you must,” replied Helen Granger with a grin, as if she had been in on the ruse the whole time. 

The women out of the way, Severus resumed his seat, taking a sip of whiskey and engaging David in small talk before popping the question for the third time. 

“So,” he said, when they’d finished talking about David’s sailing boat, “did you enjoy your evening?”

“Oh, yes, very much,” said David with a smile. “Really, that was the best tiramisu I’ve ever had. Good job, Severus.”

“Thank you,” said Severus brusquely, wanting to get to the point. “As you can see, your daughter is very well cared for here, and you and Helen are welcome to visit us any time.”

“Yes, yes, you’re a very generous man, I can see,” replied David, swirling his whiskey in his glass and then taking a sip. 

“Can I assume, then, that I have your permission to ask your daughter to marry me?”

David blinked, looking as if he was awaking from a slight stupor. “Well, no, Severus, you know how I feel about that. It just won’t do.”

Severus breathed deeply, controlling the urge to go for his wand and Avada the man out of the picture entirely. Instead, he said a polite, “excuse me,” and strode determinedly into the sitting room, whereupon he cast a Silencing Charm and proceeded to string together a stream of swear words so full of vitriol, even Voldemort would have been taken aback. 

Hermione and her mother found him huffing for breath, bent over at the waist, his knuckles white around his wand. 

“I take it you were unsuccessful?” asked Hermione carefully, looking concerned. 

“I have no idea what that bloody man wants from me!” Severus shouted, too angry to care that the man’s wife was standing next to Hermione. 

“Severus, I can’t hear you. Did you cast something?”

“Fuckingcockshitinthearse,” swore Severus, flicking his wand to remove the spell that silenced him. He cleared his throat. “I said you are correct.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, as if about to question his exact words, and then she sighed. 

“This is completely ridiculous,” she huffed, her hands on her hips. “Mum, stay with Severus for a bit. I need to talk to my father.”

With that, she stormed through the door to the kitchen, leaving Severus and her mother behind. 

“Oh dear, he has it coming now. It’s never good when she calls him ‘father’,” said Helen, looking less distressed than she sounded. “Shall we have a drink while we wait, Severus?” 

“Yes,” said Severus, tearing his eyes away from the door and conjuring a pot of tea and two cups. “Good idea.”

Severus tried to ignore the increasingly loud screams of Hermione and her father coming through the kitchen door as he poured himself and Helen a cuppa. 

—“For God’s sake, dad, he’s going to leave me if you keep this up!” 

“Milk or sugar?” Severus asked the curly-haired older woman, who was likewise trying to ignore the verbal melee occurring in the other room. 

—“If he leaves you then he is a daft man and you deserve better!”

“Just milk, please.”

—“So why won’t you just say yes? Just tell him he can marry me!” screeched Hermione as Severus handed Helen her cup.

“Thank you, Severus, you’re a love.” 

—“You know as well as I do it’s not my place to give you away! If he’s so old fashioned he thinks he needs my permission—as if I own you—how will he be once you’re married? I won’t do it!”

Severus’s ears were suddenly glued to what was occurring in the kitchen. He nearly overflowed his cup with milk, frozen as he was over David’s words. 

“Here, let me help you with that, dear,” said Helen kindly, tugging the creamer from Severus’s petrified hands. 

—“Dad, he’s not like that. He just has it in his head that this is how proposals work. I don’t get it either, but it’s important to him to have your permission. He’s trying to be respectful.”

—“How is it respectful when he cares more about my word than your desires? I’m telling you, Hermione, I won’t do it!”

Severus turned to Helen, the shouts from the kitchen once more fading into a dull, muffled roaring in the background. 

“He thinks I don’t care about what Hermione wants?” he whispered hoarsely, feeling as if the air had been stolen from his lungs.

“Of course not, Severus,” consoled Helen, patting his hand. “But she’s his little girl, and he wants her to have whatever she wants. He’s never wanted to impede her in any way.”

“I don’t want to impede her,” defended Severus, clutching his hands into his lap. “I would never—I want her to have everything.”

“Why so set on having David’s permission then? It isn’t what Hermione wants, is it?”

Severus turned to face Helen, seeing bits and pieces of Hermione in her face—her curly hair, brown eyes, and small button nose—as he churned her question over in his mind.

“Ever since I was a young boy, I have wanted to do things right by my future wife,” explained Severus, his brows furrowed into knots. “My grandmother always said it was the proper way to do things.”

Helen nodded knowingly, patting Severus on the hand. “I suspect it was, in her time. But David has always been progressive, especially when it comes to Hermione. Nothing made him a feminist as quickly as having a daughter,” Helen said with a tinkling laugh. “Unfortunately, he's where Hermione gets her stubbornness from. If you’re serious about getting his permission, you’re going to have a long fight on your hands. It could take years.”

“Years?” asked Severus, raising his eyes. “But Hermione… I don’t want to make her wait years.”

“Then you need to decide what’s best for you both, not what’s best by tradition, or by your families.”

Severus nodded, his next actions suddenly clear.

“Thank you, Helen,” he spoke honestly. “I can see where Hermione gets her kindness and intelligence from.”

Helen giggled and took her cup of tea back into her hands. “Don’t tell David you said that. He’s convinced the smarts are entirely from his side.”

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” he asked, his normal confidence washing over him as he stood from the sofa. Helen nodded, and Severus moved upstairs. He entered the bathroom, taking a moment to look himself over in the mirror. 

His hair was a bit greasy from his day in the kitchen, and he Scourgified it with his wand, moderately pleased with the result—it was still lank and long, but at least it didn’t look like he’d rolled in vegetable oil. The rest of his face was the same as always: large, beak-like nose, thick eyebrows, sharp cheekbones, and raven-black eyes. He had no idea how Hermione could bear to look at him with such affection and lust in her eyes, but then he wasn’t about to complain.

Satisfied he at least didn’t look like a tramp, he moved to the bedroom and began to pull off his button-down shirt and trousers, summoning his robes from the wardrobe. Pulling on the black woollen fabric, he felt his conviction slip into place as he buttoned himself from neck to crotch. 

Finally, he opened the drawer of his side table. He looked over at Hermione’s for a moment, smiling at her large stack of books, which was even taller than his own. He tapped his wand on the drawer, revealing a secret compartment that contained only a small red velvet box. Stuffing it in his pocket, he returned downstairs.

He entered the sitting room to find all three Grangers sipping cups of tea on the sofa. Hermione still looked livid, her right eyebrow twitching as it always did when she was furious and frustrated; her father was seated on the other side of his wife, looking stubborn and abused, his chin in the air as he determinedly studied the bookshelf to his left. 

“All right, Severus?” Helen asked lightly, as if the pair that surrounded her had not just been fighting like two nifflers over a galleon. 

“I have something I’d like to ask Hermione, actually,” replied Severus, looking at the young witch that had stubbornly forced herself into his life and stolen his heart so many years before. Hermione’s gaze flickered towards Severus, and she looked him up and down.

“What is it, Severus? Why have you changed?”

Severus took a breath. “I wanted to do this properly,” he spoke smoothly. He reached out with a graceful arm and plucked Hermione’s tea cup from her fingers, giving it to her mother with a nod and smile before grasping Hermione’s hand in his own and pulling her from the couch.

“Severus, what are you doing?” Hermione asked with a nervous giggle, her free hand over her heart. 

“It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve been so focused on what I believed was right, that I neglected to realise that it may not be right for us. I won’t apologise for my approach, but going forward, I want to assure you I will not make the same mistake,” Severus began, allowing his voice to run rich with soft velvety notes.

“For all that I protested, you are, Hermione, the best thing that has happened in my life, and I couldn’t imagine it without you,” he continued, and without breaking his lock on her eyes, sank to one knee. The little red box was summoned silently from his pocket to his hand, and he opened it to reveal his grandmother’s gold band, the soft metal curling in circles around a shining emerald in its centre. 

Hermione gasped, her hand moving to cover her mouth. “Severus…” she breathed, her eyes glistening with tears.

“I love you, Hermione Granger. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?”

“You frustrating dolt of an arse!” Hermione shrieked, and she pulled her hand from his grasp and threw her arms around him. “Of course I will!” 

She set a firm kiss upon his lips, before she could no longer do so through the smile on her lips. “Yes, of course, I will marry you. Yes!” she whispered, tears falling happily from her eyes. 

Severus smiled, his heart beating wildly in his chest, overcome with happiness. She’d said yes! And even though it was without her father’s blessing, in the middle of his sitting room, with her parents watching, and long past sunset, it was somehow perfect. 

He slipped the delicate band onto his fiancé’s finger, and kissed her softly again. 

A squeeze on his shoulder made him look up, and he saw Hermione’s father, a proud, satisfied expression on his face. “Welcome to the family,” he said with a smile. 

“Thank you,” replied Severus, standing to shake the man’s hand. 

“Well,” chirped Helen, giving both Hermione and Severus large hugs. “I think this calls for something stronger than tea.”

“Too right it does,” agreed David. “We’ll just grab something from the kitchen then, won’t we Helen?”

“Oh yes, just a mo’ you two,” said Helen with a wink, whispering a “congratulations” to Severus as she passed him into the kitchen. 

The moment the door was closed, Hermione’s arms flew her around Severus’s shoulders again, her lips covering his mouth. He kissed her deeply, attempting to communicate a portion of what his heart felt through his lips and tongue. 

“Oh, Severus, I’m so happy,” whispered Hermione, tears falling once more.

Severus looked down at his lovely witch, all the more in love with her then than he’d been at the start of his quest to propose to her. 

It felt right, somehow, for it to happen this way. For all his conviction about what was right and proper, all that really mattered was that she loved him, and that she was happy. 

As it always was, in the end, Hermione got her way.


End file.
